


Bound

by everysplendidthing



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everysplendidthing/pseuds/everysplendidthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A magical ring, time travel, Steve and Darcy, a complete butchering of the Marvel movie universe and its timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn’t leave me alone, and the story is all over the place and probably doesn’t make sense half the time. But I’m still glad I did it. Also, unbeta-ed. So blame me for everything.

Steve’s standing at the stove when he hears a quiet shuffle behind him. He turns around expecting Bucky, but there’s a woman standing in the middle of the kitchen. She grins brightly at him, pulls out a chair and practically throws herself into it.

  


“Steve!” She chirps. “How’ve you been?”

  


Steve blinks at her, mouth open. “Um.”

  


The woman tilts her head, brows furrowing. “We haven’t met yet, have we?”

  


“No, ma’am.”

  


“Well, guess we’ll have to fix that.” She stands from the table and strides over to him, right hand thrust out for him to take. “Darcy Lewis.”

  


He’s sure this is a dream. It has to be. It’s the only logical explanation to this woman standing before him, blue eyes shining brightly, and odd clothes draped on her body. He’s just slipped his hand around hers when she’s gone. He stares into the empty space before him, the ghost of Darcy’s palm on his.

  


Steve shakes his head, turns back to the stove. He must be losing his mind.

  


\--

  


He becomes accustomed to it, these impromptu visits from this impossible woman. Darcy seems to pop up everywhere. There isn’t a place in New York that hasn’t been colored by her presence. Steve thinks he may be going mad sometimes, imagining this all. But Darcy is too vibrant, too big a personality to possibly be made up.

  


She explains on their third meeting that it’s time travel. And, well, it seems so far fetched. But everything about her screams otherworldly, and why can’t it be true? She seems to have an uncanny knack for knowing what’s going to happen. Leaves him a breadcrumb of clues with her words.

  


It’s on her fifth visit that Steve realizes she’s appearing out of order. The way she glances around at everything, seems just shy of terrified and panicked. How she holds herself as though to keep from falling apart. 

  


“I don’t understand,” she says, frustration coloring her voice. “Jane is saying one thing and Thor another, and Tony’s no help at all. He wants to strap a Stark-Cam to me. I caught him trying to bug my scarfs.”

  


“But as far as anyone can tell it’s the ring. Bound, Thor says. Like that’s supposed to mean something to me.”

  


\-- 

  


There’s black markings up her arm, a series of a dozen neat rows of numbers and letters. Some sort of equation.

  


She rolls her eyes when he asks about it. “Jane. The barista at Starbucks stopped supplying napkins when she realized the nerd-wonder wasn’t using them for their intended purpose. She was-” Darcy raises the middle and index finger on both her hands in what Steve now knows are air quotes (It’s going to be big!) “- _ on a roll.  _ And I only need one hand to text, so.”

  


He doesn’t understand half of what she says, but he nods along anyway. He enjoys these visits most. Darcy stretched out on the couch, chatting away. She loses him on half the things she mentions, but he enjoys it anyway. These glimpses into her life. Someone named Jarvis and Tony take up most of her current spiel.

  


He sits across from her, sketchbook open on his lap. She’d told him to draw her like one of his French girls then broke into hysterical giggles. He doesn't know what she’s talking about, but he lays down lines anyway. She comes to life in charcoal. ankles crossed, an arm stretched out above her.

  


She peers over his shoulder later, examining his work. He squirms as her eyes trace the drawn image of herself. Darcy gives a satisfied little nod and smiles at him. “You’re kind of amazing, you know?”

  


A warm rush fills Steve’s body from head to toe and he grins back at Darcy.

  


\--

  


“Hey, Cap,” She grins, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. The warm heat of her an electric shock straight to his bone.

  


“Darcy.” 

  


“Where are you off to this fine afternoon?”

  


Steve steers them across a busy intersection. “Meeting Bucky for lunch. Professor Kirk ended class early today, so I’m getting a head start going over to the deli. ”

  


Darcy gives a soft hum and they walk on in silence. It’s an odd comfort to Steve, having this woman at his side. He’d been sure the moment she popped up in his tiny kitchen that he’d been going mad, but if going crazy involves having Darcy in his life, well, he doesn’t really mind.

  


They come up to the deli far too soon for Steve’s liking. Darcy unhooks herself from him and fiddles with his collar. Steve can feel the flush of his cheeks as her skin brushes the side of his neck. 

  


“There,” Darcy says, giving him a light pat. “All presentable now.”

  


Steve bows his head, murmurs a soft “Thanks.”

  


When he glance back up Darcy is grinning at him, red lips spread wide. She rolls her eyes heavenward with a small laugh, then launches up on the tips of her toes. One hand rests on his shoulder, the other briefly glancing the pounding pulse in his wrist. Then Darcy’s mouth is on his, a quick, soft kiss before she falls back on her heels. Steve lets out a shaky breath and stares at her with wide eyes.

  


“Have we not done that yet?” Darcy asks. “I always get so confused with what’s happened and what hasn’t.”

  


He wants to answer, but his chest feels so tight he’s not sure he can manage words. Steve settles for a slow shake of his head. Darcy merely shrugs, “Well, we have now.”

  


“Steve!” Bucky calls. When Steve turns to him, Darcy is gone. “Is that lipstick?”

  


\--

  


He’s just finished packing up his sketchbook and charcoals when he feels someone enter the room. He turns and Darcy is there. His heart falls straight to his feet at the sight of her, and he’s glad Bucky is out for the day. Her hair is an absolute mess, curls a wild halo around her face. Her eyes are glassy and her bright pink lipstick has smeared a bit at the corner of her mouth. It’s her attire though, that has Steve’s heart racing.

  


The dress she’s wearing is ridiculously short, the material shiny and smooth. She looks draped in liquid. All shimmering shades of blue. “Steve!”

  


She stumbles over to him, feet bare. She nearly collides with his chest, and he places steadying hands on her elbows. “Thor brought mead!”

  


He’s heard mention of Thor before, from what he’s able to tell Thor is a good friend of hers. He eases Darcy into a sitting chair, and she plops gracelessly into it.

  


“So much mead. And Jane is making us sing sea shanties and who knew scientists were so nerdy, right? And, shhhh, but did you know Bruce and Natasha snuck off? Only, don’t tell because I’m pretty sure she’d kill me with her pinky.” Here Darcy holds up her own pinky, wiggling it around for emphasis. “Did you know it’s my birthday?”

  


Steve shakes his head, kneels down in front of her. “I didn’t, no.”

  


“Well, it is. And, Tony got me a cake. With Iron Man, of course. But, my candles. For my birthday wish.” She leans toward him suddenly, elbows on her knees and her hair swinging forward so that the ends brush against him. There’s a drunken focus in her eyes as she looks at him. Her voice is softer now. “I’m not supposed to tell my wish, birthday rules and all that. But it’s been months now, and I just want you ask me out. Please.”

  


Steve’s heart gives an irregular jump, and he swallows thickly against the sudden nervous buzz that’s overtaken his body. “You do?”

  


Darcy gives a solemn nod. “Yes.”

  


“Alright,” Steve says, taking one of Darcy’s hands between his two. “Darcy Lewis, will you be my girl?”

  


Darcy lets out a giggle, fingers curling around his. “You and your old man talk! Of course I will.” She plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “And when I get back, you’ll take me to dinner, okay? Pizza. And bring me sunflowers, they’re my favorite.”

  


\--

  


Darcy’s sitting cross legged on his couch, his third rejection form in hand. She’s frowning down at it as Steve paces.

  


“All I want is a chance to defend my country, Darcy.”

  


Darcy sighs, folds the form in half. “Steve, trust me, this is going to work out.” She pats the space beside her. “Come join me.”

  


He lowers himself beside her, stiffening a little when she wiggles closer to him. Darcy seems to have no boundaries when it come to personal space, always dives in smiling to his personal bubble. She twines her fingers with his and rests their joined hands in her lap.

  


“So, as far as Tony and Jane can figure out, I haven’t screwed up the timeline yet, so I’m 80% sure I can get away with telling you this. And, well, Thor says nothing I can do will mess it up. Asgardian magic and all that jazz. And, really, there’s a big ol’ debate on what me being in your timeline means. But that’s for another time. What I’m trying to say is, don’t get so down in the dumps, okay? Things actually work out in your favor, you just have to be a little patient.”

  


Steve lets out a slow breathe, and gives a stubborn little kick at the ground. “How much longer?”

  


“Not too long.”

  


It’s not much of an answer, but Steve doubts he can get much more out of Darcy at the moment, so he decides to change the subject. “So, meddling in my timeline?”

  


“Yup. Thor’s fault. It’s the ring.” She holds her free hand out to him, a fat gold band with delicate etching sits on her ring finger. “Asgardian mumbo-jumbo. It came with a bunch of engagement gifts from Thor’s friends, and, well, it looked pretty. It won’t come off until I come to some big revelation. Jane won’t stop teasing me about it.”

  


“What sort of revelation?”

  


“I’m actually too afraid to ask. But Jane assures me it’ll be good for me.”

  


\--

  


Darcy appears in the middle of the night.

  


Steve wakes with a jolt at the small, desperate noise that escapes Darcy. She’s standing there with unfocused eyes, arm outstretched. Her hair falls gently around her shoulders and the emerald dress she’s wearing stands out like a beacon in his darkened room.

  


“Darcy?” His voice is groggy with sleep, and he pushes the covers aside to stand before her.

  


She turns to him as though coming out of a dream, slowly and then all at once. Her eyes are bright, focused. Her body shakes as she makes a grab for him, hands flitting everywhere as though she can’t quite believe he’s there.

  


“You fell,” she cries, a hand on his shoulder. “I was at the bar with Tony and they were playing the news on the tv, and Steve I saw it. I saw you fall.” Fingers brush the shell of his ear, the pale column of his neck. “The helicarrier. You. God, it was so far down.”

  


She snakes her arms around his neck and then her mouth is on his. She clings to him like a lifeline, the salt of her tears coloring the taste of the kiss. She pulls back slightly, forehead pressed to his. “Be okay, please. For me.”

  


\--

  


“Steve!”

  


He turns at Darcy’s voice, watches as she pushes her way through the crowd and runs full tilt at him. Her body collides with his, arms slipping up around his neck. She smiles brightly when she pulls back.

  


“Did it happen? It happened, right? It had to have happened already!”

  


He grins toothily back at her, heart pounding. “I was accepted into some trial. It’s as good a start as any.”

  


Darcy gives a hoot of joy, pulls him into a hug once more. “Let’s celebrate!”

  


They spend the night out, gorging themselves on fair food and walking the length of the beach. Steve is contents to listen to Darcy talk on and on. About her friends, and someone named Happy, how she’s finally moved into an apartment of her own - kind of. He tells her about his mom, about growing up with Bucky, his dream of becoming an illustrator. When the sun begins to peek over the horizon they start the trek back to his home. Fall asleep side by side on the couch. When Steve wakes around noon he is alone. He wonders if he dreamed it all, but Darcy’s shoes sit next to his by the front door. And the sight of her shiny red flats next to his scuffed shoes is a comfort.

  


\--

  


It’s unbearably hot. His shirt sticking to his back, chest on fire. Everyone in his company has run on ahead of him. Steve hears the heavy stomp of someone behind him, feels his stomach drop. He’s getting lapped. 

  


“Keep it up, soldier!” 

  


He turns sharply to stare at Darcy, nearly losing his footing. She grins toothily at him. Her hair is tucked under a tan cap, fatigues too large for her frame.

  


“Darcy?” Steve wheezes.

  


Her smile softens. “I’ll run with you,” she says, keeping pace with him. He can feel a terrible sinking in his stomach, knows she’s holding back. 

  


“What are you doing here?”

  


Darcy shrugs. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d check in on my favorite asthmatic. Hey, what day is it?”

  


“June seventeenth.”

  


“Ah. Big day.”

  


Steve opens his mouth to answer, but his lungs sting and he focuses instead on breathing. In, out. Left foot, right. They jog in silence, steps in line and Darcy glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He flushes every time his eyes catch hers, tries to keep his gaze steadily forward. He wonders where this falls in her timeline. Knows sometimes she seems so in synch with him, other times looking at him and the world as if they were all so new.

  


“What day is it for you?” He asks, slowing down a bit. He wants to drag this out, doesn't mind lagging behind the other men if it means a few extra minutes with Darcy. Just this once anyway. It’s been nearly three weeks since he’s seen her.

  


“Spoilers,” she answers. Amusement colors her features, and she comes to a stop. Her hand on his arm pulls him back. Steve fidgets under her gaze, tucks his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling when she reaches out to brush his hair from his forehead. “You’re destined for greatness, Steve Rogers.”

  


He ducks his head, torn between preening at her comment and disbelief. “I hope so.”

  


“I know so.”

  


“Yeah?”

  


“Yeah,” she parrots back. She adjusts the neck of his shirt, straightens his dog tags. “Brilliant things.”

  


He wants to ask her more. Wants to know everything. What brilliant things does he do? But the words stick like toffee in his mouth and he merely stares down at Darcy.

  


“Hi,” he says softly, a tentative hand coming up to rest on the swell of her waist. “Are we here yet?”

  


Darcy flushes a pretty shade of pink at his touch. “Um, no? Not...Not quite there.”

  


Steve removes his hand, nods. “Okay.”

  


“Okay,” Darcy parrots back, gaze suddenly shy. “Um, I think you should go. They’re timing you.”

  


Steve merely nods. Darcy takes a few steps back. “Goodbye, Steve Rogers.”

  


“Goodbye, Darcy Lewis.”

  


He watches her round a crop of scraggly trees and overgrown brush at the trail's edge before turning back towards camp and continuing on.

  


\--

  


This new body is an oddity. He feels like a newborn calf, everything in him uncoordinated. He’s lying in his bunk, marveling at the shape of his hand. Everything so different, even the close cut of his nails.

  


“Whatcha looking at?”

  


He turns to see Darcy lying on her side on the bunk beside him. She doesn’t look the least bit phased by his transformation.

  


“Do I look different to you?”

  


She squints at him, shakes her head. “How long have you had this body?”

  


“Three days.”

  


“Hm. This is how I met you. Actually, you seem a bit blonder now, if anything. My time. Blonder in my time. You know, it’s probably you going prematurely white. Having to deal with Tony.”

  


“Really?” Steve sits up, everything off kilter.

  


Darcy rolls onto her stomach, crosses her arms, and turns to face him. “Mmhm. I’m sorry about Dr. Erskine.”

  


Steve scowls down at the ground. “I couldn't catch the guy that did it. I couldn’t even control my body.”

  


“You get better,” Darcy says gently. 

  


\--

  


There’s a sharp smack on his backside. He jumps at the contact, as always. “Hey there, Captain Tight Pants.”

  


Darcy smiles up at him, plants a quick kiss along his jawline. “How goes the touring?” She glances around the room. “Where are we?”

  


“Omaha.” Steve removes his cowl. “Nebraska.”

  


Darcy hops up onto the vanity counter, legs swinging out in front of her. “Fancy. Hey, wanna know a fun fact?”

  


Steve settles himself into the vanity chair, one of Darcy’s feet wiggling it’s way under his thigh - for warmth, she’s repeatedly told him in the past. He’s gotten use to this, he thinks. The proximity of this mouthy brunette. The ways she’s wiggled herself into his life and personal space. How she set up camp in the hollows of his heart. The thought gives him pause, but he chooses not to dwell on it too much now.

  


He merely raises a brow at Darcy’s question. “Is this like your fun fact about Taco Bell? Which I’m still not sure I understand.”

  


Darcy nods. “Absolutely. So, Johnny Cash, right?”

  


“Johnny Cash, of course.”

  


Darcy gives him a dazzling smile. “Right, well, in his rider he specified that an American flag always hang on stage when he performed. And, it just so happens that you inspired that little bit.”

  


“Did I now?”

  


“Mmhm. You’re an inspiration to us all, Mr. Rogers.”

  


Steve frowns. “I don’t feel like it. They’ve got me playing dress up, dancing around stage.”

  


“Hey.” Darcy’s hand slips along his jaw, forces him to look up at her. “Trust me when I say that you go on to do great things, okay?”

  


He turns into her touch with a sigh. “Trust me.” And how can he not?

  


\--

  


The woods are quiet, dusk close at hand. The campfire is nothing but softly glowing embers, the occasional snap and pop of burning logs. Steve is stretched out beside it, soaking up what little heat he can. His whole body aches with fatigue. He and the Howling Commandos have been raiding HYDRA labs all over Europe, and the constant move is getting to him. He wonders how the men must feel, feels nothing but pride and gratitude knowing they must be worse for wear than him.

  


Dum Dum and Gabe have gone ahead to scout the outskirts of the base, have been gone only a few minutes when Steve hears something echoing in the distance. It sounds like yelling. He sits up straight, head tilted toward the East.

  


“What’s it?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of apple.

  


“Something’s wrong,” Steve answers, standing up and making his way after his men. The others holster their weapons and scramble after him. They make their way steadily through the forest when voices break through.

  


“Jane!” A woman yells. “Thor!”

  


Steve’s chest seizes in panic. He breaks into a sprint, Bucky shouting his name. He can hear the others behind him, but all he can think about is getting to Darcy. He wonders if this is it, her first visit to his timeline. He’s always wondered how this would play out.

  


“It’s alright, miss,” Gabe says, hands out before him as though not to spook Darcy. “We’re unarmed, see?”

  


“Where am I?” She asks, eyes darting wildly about. “Where’s Jane? This isn’t -- Steve!”

  


She falls easily into his arms, face buried into his chest. He holds her close, presses his cheek to the crown of her head while she shivers against him. “I don’t know what happened. I was there, I was in the lab. Thor had just got back and we were going through everything and, just, god. What’s happening?”

  


He runs a hand down her back. “Darcy, it’s okay. It’s the ring. This, well, this is kind of a thing and Thor’s going to explain it. At least, you tell me he did.”

  


Darcy pulls back, glancing up at him as though seeing him for the first time. Her face shows nothing but surprise and she takes a tentative step back, voice wavering “You’re not my Steve, are you?”

  


It’s like a punch to the gut and he instinctively reaches for her. “I’m always yours.”

  


His fingers grasp empty space. He can hear the men shuffling around. 

  


“What the hell?”

  


He heaves a heavy sigh, shoulder dropping. “We probably need to talk.”

  


Everyone is wide eyed, disbelief coloring their features. Dum Dum barks off a sharp laugh. “Talking’s a good start.”

  


\--

  


She’s a mess the next time he sees her. She’s standing barefoot on the forest floor, in a bright yellow dress and a men’s coat jacket, arms held up protectively over her face.

  


“Darcy?”

  


Her arms drop to her sides, and he sees the fear slip from her features. The dress is ripped, the left side of the coat singed. He notices the cuts and scratches, angry red a sharp contrast to her pale flesh. 

  


“Fucking Stark,” she says. “ _ Fucking _ Stark and his stupid ideas. An army around the world. What kind of bullshit is that? And, god, Steve. This life. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  


She steps toward him, her red tipped toes just shy of his boots. He rests a hand on her arm. “Are you alright?”

  


She shoves hair from her face, nods. “I’m fine. Just scratches. There’s a lot of glass” She sighs, stands a little taller and straightens her shoulders. “I want you to teach me to shoot. I know I said no before, but this life. It’s not what I imagined, you know? But you're in it and that’s not so bad. And, I need to learn how to defend myself because I want this.”

  


“Oh my god, do I want this.” She looks positively giddy now, her hands on his shoulders and her mouth stretched wide in a toothy smile. “I’m in. I want this. All of it, I’m desperately and stupidly in. One hundred percent.”

  


She laughing, standing on the tips of her toes, mouth placing quick, small kisses wherever she can reach. She reaches for his hand.

  


“Oh.” Her mouth a perfect o of surprise. They both glance down. The fat gold band that’s refused to leave her finger lies in the grass between them.

  


\--

  


It’s the dip of the mattress that wakes him, body tense and ready for a fight. But when he opens his eyes it’s to a tangle of dark brown hair and a familiar slope of shoulder. He feels the tension leave him in one long, slow pull. Breaths in the familiar scent of Darcy.

  


She rolls over to face him, cheek nuzzling at the pillow in sleep. She looks peaceful, lighter than the last time he saw her. He takes in the curl of her lashes, the bridge of her nose, the full cupid's bow of her upper lip. God, he thinks, reaching up to push hair back from her face, he swears he’s never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

  


She makes a small noise at the touch, something like fire shoots straight through him. He pulls back a bit to observe her more. She’s wearing a gray shirt that’s far too big and nothing more. The creamy expanse of her thighs sends his heart racing and he tears his gaze away. The logo above her breast catches his eye, and he squints in the dark to make it out. Something like a bird, and below it in capital letters S. ROGERS.

  


He spend hours watching the rise and falls of his name emblazoned on her chest, wondering what that means.

  


\--

  


Steve’s body is tense and primed for a fight. Everything in him equal parts anger and desperation and unbearable grief.

  


“Steve?”

  


He rounds on Darcy, chest heaving and shoulders looming over her. He knows he must look intimidating by the step she takes back. “Did you know?” he hisses, hands balled into fists at his side.

  


“I...What?” Her brows furrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  


“Bucky,” he spits out, the name a burn on his tongue. “Did you know what was going to happen?”

  


“Yes, but --”

  


“How could you not tell me?” He snaps, taking a step toward her. She shuffles further away from him, eyes wide. “My best friend dies and you never thought to tell me? I could have stopped it, Darcy! I could have saved him!”

  


“This isn’t...I don’t,” Darcy can’t seem to string a sentence together, throat tight with tears and frustration. “ _ Steve _ .”

  


He takes a steadying breath and glares at her. She looks absolutely frightened. Body small and curled in on itself, they way she stood during her first few trips into his timeline. He feels the fight drain from him, breath leaving him in a quiet  _ whoosh _ . 

  


“Darcy, how many times have you been in my timeline?”

  


Her gaze drops to the floor, arms coming up to wrap around her midsection. “Once. Yesterday.”

  


Steve lets out a quiet swear, takes a tentative step forward. He reaches for her and she flinches away. It’s like a sickening punch to the gut, and he opens his mouth to apologize, to say anything, really. Only there’s nothing but empty space before him.

  


He feels tired. God, he feels old and drained. He wants his friend back. Wants Darcy back. Wants this war to end. He wants so many thing. He heaves a heavy sigh, drags a hand down his face. Steve thinks he’ll spend his whole life wanting.

  


\--

  


Steve tips the nose of the plane down towards the ocean, sends up a prayer that this works. He can hear Howard and Peggy on the comm, voices frantic and far away. He can feel the cold in his bones.

  


“Steve?”

  


He feels his heart stop, turning sharply to take Darcy in. She looks like a vision. Hair wild around her shoulder, a dark blue dress nearly dripping from her. He feels desperate, one hand reaching for her. She stumbles forward, falling easily against him.

  


“That explains the look,” she says, mouth warm against his neck. 

  


His chest feels tight, heart a heavy hammer against his ribs. God, he feels caged and frantic. He’s got one hand on the control wheel and the other digging into Darcy’s hip so tight he knows there will be a bruise. Is savagely glad there will be something of him left.

  


“I love you.” His mouth on her jaw, hurried and wet. “I love you so much.”

  


“Love you mo-” His lips crush hers, teeth catching her lower lip. The plane shakes and rattles. The noise of it all. Wind and alarm, his friends on the line. Darcy clinging to him like a lifeline. He supposes, really, as the nose of the plane breaks the water, there are worse ways to go. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Useless notes and tidbits. Just because. Why not, right?

A week after coming off ice, Fury hands Steve a silver credit card with a tiny SHIELD logo in the corner. “Get out of my sight, Rogers,”

 

He frowns at the card until Fury’s secretary takes pity on him and explains how it works. He goes to a small art supply store and lets the man behind the counter talk him into a leather bound sketchbook and pens that cost so damn much he feels almost ashamed to swipe his VISA. He also buys a small notebook. Peels away it’s shrinkwrap at a cafe near Stark tower and tries to jot down everything her remembers Darcy talking about.

 

_ Starbucks, Thai food, Star Wars... _

 

\--

 

Clint introduces them, and it takes everything in Steve not to pull her to him right then and there. She smiles at him, all red lips and brown curls, glasses slipping down her nose. She pulls her hand back from his and it’s like losing a limb. All phantom pains. 

 

He watches her go, two hot mugs of coffee in hand, Clint claps him heavily on the back, teases him.

 

\--

 

The day after Darcy’s 25th birthday, Steve knocks on her door. He’s got a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers and a large cheese pizza. Darcy groans at the sight of him, letting the door fall open completely as she shuffles over to the couch. Steve follows her in, sets the flowers on the counter sans vase and dishes out two plates of cheesy goodness. They spend the day with Darcy curled into his side, in and out of sleep while he watches nature documentaries on TV. Steve absentmindedly rubs the gold band on Darcy’s hand. 

 

The next day Darcy sighs into her cell phone as she fills Jane in on a perfect first date.

 

\--

 

Sometimes Darcy watches from a distance, sits in the back of a warm theater in summer and aches at the way Steve’s jaw clenches as the newsreels play before the movie’s start. Stretches herself out on a grassy plot of land and drifts in and out of sleep as Steve sketches across the way from her, brows furrowed in concentration. She sits at a cafe across the street from the deli Steve and Bucky frequent, smiles as they scarf down sandwiches. 

 

\--

 

She comes to once in a crumbling house. The German soldier lying in wait by a broken window lunges at her, and she loses her footing as his hands wrap around her neck. The two of them fall to the floor. She claws at his face with all she’s got, panic and tears and oh god she’s going to die here, so far from everyone she loves. She manages a blow that grants her a seconds reprieve, her hands searching wildly for anything to defend herself. She grips a heavy iron candleholder, swinging it up and up and over her until it connects with a sickening thunk with her assailants face. She’s yelling, something fierce and desperate. She manages to reverse their positions, sitting high on his chest, the candle stick making dull thwacking sounds with every hit she lands.

 

It’s Bruce who finds her crying in the middle of his lab, trying to scrub the blood from her fingers. They don’t talk about it, but he carries her down to medical and Steve appears sometime after they’ve changed her into a pair set of scrubs. She cries into his shoulder, and he murmurs into her hair. The words lost to her, but the vibrations of them in his chest a comfort.

 

\--

 

She sits through too many USO shows to count. She smiles at the way Steve butchers his lines, even with them wedged into the inside of his shield. The part she likes best is watching the children’s faces, beaming and awed when Steve lifts his motorcycle above his head. Her favorite moment by far is when one of the chorus girls gets fed up with a heckler and invites him on stage to attempt and lift Steve’s bike. The man had stormed off the stage red faced to taunting jeers and the girls on stage had cheered his departure, slapping Steve on the back and calling him an American hero. He’s face had gone a shocking shade of pink at the crowd’s enthusiastic clapping.

 

\--

 

Steve insists on walking her down to the lobby of the Avenger’s Tower. When she opens the door his face goes pale and he makes an almost desperate lunge for her, his whole body shaking as he cradles her head and kisses her with fierce determination. It leaves her reeling, the press of his lips to hers, tongue slipping easily against hers, the hot trail of a hand on her neck. Steve pulls away only to bury his face into the crook of her neck, arms a vice around her. His voice is ragged. “This was the last time I saw you.”

 

\--

 

She feels guilty sometimes. Knows that the Darcy she is now isn’t the Darcy Steve fell in love with. And, isn’t that just the craziest idea? That Captain  _ fucking  _ America is in love with her. And all she’s done is spoken to him a few times, crossed into his timeline a grand total of three times.

 

“I’m not telling you to pressure you,” He says. Making sure to keep a good chunk of distance between them. “I just want you to know that I’m in. Whatever you want, I’m in.”

 

“Friends?”

 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I can do with a new friend.”

  
“Good. Because Jane and I are getting an apartment and we need someone to help with the heavy lifting.”

**Author's Note:**

> That's the end. But I added another chapter with some notes and headcanon. Because I can. No need to read them if you don't want.


End file.
